Of Elves and Hangovers
by DdraigCoch
Summary: Inspired by James Barclay's Chronicles of the Raven. A Morning after the night before story. WARNING: Suggested slash and excessive hangover.


Title: Of Elves and Hangovers  
Author: DdC  
Fandom: James Barclay's Chronicles of The Raven  
Pairing: Ilkar/Denser  
Rating: R  
Feedback: Yes please!  
Archive: contrelamontre  
Summery: Set during the gap between _NoonShade_ and _NightChild_. Denser, unwilling to return to his Collage after a visit to Korina, accompanies Ilkar to Julatsa. This is what happens the morning after one night on that journey.  
Note: Written in just over the allotted 45mins for the "If you tell anyone, I'll kill you." Challenge

* * *

It was the sound of muttered cursing that awoke Denser from his sleep. Blinking rapidly to clear his eyes he immediately regretted doing so as a shaft of sunlight speared itself through to his muggy brain, triggering what surely felt to its victim as the hangover from hell. It felt as though the Gods were doing a tap dance across the inside of his head.

Groaning he buried his face in the pillow trying to suffocate the light and the still cursing voice that was, he'd decided somewhere between Thor's solo and the titan's chorus line, responsible for his suffering.

"Shut the hell up... for gods sake..." He mumbled. The voice laughed, a high pitched sound that lanced through his brain like a FlamePalm through ice. Something was thrown at him from elsewhere in the room, small, made of thick glass that thumped against the bedstead and bounced off to hit the crown of Denser's head drawing another groan from the thick tongue.

"Serves you right, you shouldn't have drunk so bloody much last night." The voice chuckled "Unless you want to spend the rest of the day riding under the sun with a hangover, I'd suggest drinking that elixir."

"Elixir?" He croaked, vaguely recognizing Ilkar in the sarcastic blur that appeared to his eyes to have three legs. Denser assumed that meant that the elf was attempting to pull his trousers on, and decided despite the warnings of his taste buds, to follow the directions of the irritably blurry arm he assumed was pointing to wherever the Missile of Migraines had landed. With shaky hands and much pitiful groaning the Xesteskian mage managed to pull out the cork from the half empty bottle and downed the foul tasting concoction. He groaned even louder, screwing his eyes shut against the still evil light before finding that this didn't work. But then, slowly, the headache lessened to a dull throb even though his mouth still felt as though cats had been molting in it. "Made i' yourself, Ilks?"

"Of course. Simple hangover remedy - Raven approved."

Manfully he opened his eyes on the later morning sunlight filtering through the room, and as his vision began to clear, so did his mind. Memories of wine flavored kisses coupled with the salty tang of sweaty flesh, half remembered glimpses of Ilkar in his naked elvish glory, lamplight turning jet black hair into a tempting curtain highlighted with gold, firm muscles under skin as soft a raven's wing... A brilliant smile spread over his lips, un blurred eyes taking in the sight before them greedily. Ilkar approached slowly wearing only his trousers and a friendly smile. Something seemed off about that, Denser decided, and the fact that he couldn't see the Julatsan Elf's hands didn't exactly proclaim good intentions. Nervousness jumped in his gut even as Ilkar bent down to press a chaste kiss to his lips.

"Everything we've done here, stays here. I'm Julatsan, and if my collage hears of this..." Pain flashed across the elf's face briefly before the cheerful smile was back on his handsome features. "If you tell anyone, I'll kill you. Code or no Code."

Denser reached out to run a finger around the shape of his friend's sensitive pointed ear, only to have a highly amused Julatsan elf empty a bucket of frighteningly cold water over his head, shaking what little sleepiness was left out of him. "I shouldn't think Erienne would be overjoyed either."

Sopping wet, Denser began to laugh, throwing the wet covers at the still overly serious elf.

"Don't worry," he chuckled "There's nothing wrong with a little warriors relief."

"Gods above, I wish you'd stop that." Ilkar muttered, pulling a shirt over his head "You sound like Hirad."

Fin

05 Sept 2003


End file.
